


Dawning

by Eithe



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, written for Wayhaven Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eithe/pseuds/Eithe
Summary: I figure Winter’s going to say ‘I love you’ first and, as with all the other Very Clear Signs of Mutual Feeling, Mason will remain emotionally illiterate enough to respond with ‘that sign can’t stop me because I can’t read.’
Relationships: Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Dawning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 1 of Wayhaven Week 2020. Prompts: Dawn/Dusk.

Nate keeps bringing up the detective in conversation. Constantly; way more often than there’s any reason to (although, weirdly, it does often coincide with Mason thinking about her). He talks about her good points, and about how nice it is to have her around, and after the fifth conversational ambush - the fifth one Mason noticed, there might’ve been more - Mason finally has to ask (even though he’s sure it’s _not_ that)--

“Do you have a thing for her?”

Nate looks at him with such bewilderment that Felix starts cackling. Nate sighs and walks off without another word. Which. Isn’t an answer.

Before that realization has a chance to cause anything more than vague confusion, Nate’s voice, sounding very tired, comes out of the library;

“No, Mason, I do not ‘have a thing’ for Winter.”

Felix turns a too-wide grin towards Mason, who ignores it and heads for the roof. He needs a smoke

\--

Nate’s a little less weird about Winter, after that, but he still acts like Mason’s interest is surprising, somehow – even though Winter’s always around, being interesting. She’s not quiet, not at all, but it’s not the kind of noise that drives him out of his skin. White noise, maybe; apparently that’s a thing that works on humans, drowning out unpleasant sounds.

She does kind of do that.

Or she does when Felix isn’t also around, because for the last month and a half, Felix has been just, _constantly_ giving him shit.

“Looking at ‘nothing’ again?”

Mason rolls his eyes and doesn’t stop appreciating the view.

Plenty of people like watching Winter when she’s around; she’s nice to look at. When Winter catches him looking, she even shifts a little to improve the view and then gives him a slow smile, an obvious invitation which experience says she’ll be only too happy to verbally affirm. He grins back, turning more fully towards her, and she gives him a slow once-over of her own.

Felix makes a face. Mason grins obnoxiously.

“She really likes you,” Felix says, like that’s important news.

“Obviously,” Mason scoffs, and pushes off the wall to answer Winter’s smile, which has sharpened into something just shy of a dare.

He’s expecting an invitation, but not the one he gets;

“Spar?”

“If you want to work up a sweat, you’ll be less embarrassed if we just go to my room.”

It’s not like she stands a chance; she’s human. She’s quick and strong for a human, and enticingly flexible, but they both know in a real fight he’d put her through a wall.

She sways into his space like she’s going for a kiss, so he lets her; she nips his jaw, instead, a teasing rebuke that doesn’t discourage a damn thing, and then murmurs in his ear,

“Fight me.”

He chuckles and follows her to the gym; it gives him the opportunity to appreciate the sway of her hips as she saunters away. This isn’t the main course, but it’ll probably still be fun.

–

After he’s thrown her across the room twice - gently enough that she can tuck into a roll and spring back to her feet, laughing, because if she gets hurt she will take a boringly long time to heal - she gets a little more serious about it.

She manages to get a hit in, finally, after a really convincing feint.

“Cute,” he tells her, and she bares her teeth, launching herself at him again with intent. If that’s how she wants it… 

He gets her on the mats to see about making it more interesting, and she writhes under him in a way that isn’t trying to be enticing at all but still succeeds admirably.

“Stop going easy on me,” she demands, and he huffs, pinning her wrists.

“Me going hard on you would put you in the hospital.”

It would put her in the morgue, actually. He doesn’t like how that thought makes him feel so he stops thinking it. It’s easy to do, with this kind of distraction available; as soon as he says it, she goes pliant under him, heavy lidded, and purrs,

“I think I’ve proven I can handle you, Sunshine.”

He knows what she’s doing, but laughs anyway, aware that the amusement is loosening his hold on her and letting it happen. She twists her wrists at the perfect angle to break the hold – if he were human, it would have worked even without the ploy – and then flips them around so she’s astride his hips, trying to pin his arms down. She couldn’t do it if he weren’t letting her, but…

He’s deciding whether or not he’s going to keep letting her when her playful look drops, momentarily, for something more serious, searching.

“Okay?”

He grins.

“More than.”

He does let her hold his wrists down and she rewards him with a hot, hungry kiss. There’s something in it other than hunger – the same thing from her ‘get well soon’ kiss. He still doesn’t know what it is, but it’s still really nice. He hadn’t thought anything physical could possibly have much novelty left, but she’s just full of surprises.

That segues into making out for a while, although she doesn’t let him get any farther than taking off her shirt because, as she puts it,

“Nate and Adam will not respect me in the morning if they see me naked, Mason.”

Which isn’t true, and she probably knows it, but they also won’t appreciate the view nearly as much as it deserves, so yeah; he’s going to let her drive them back to her apartment, where she won’t try and keep quiet for fear of the others overhearing, and they’ll have enough daylight left filtering through the curtains to set her skin aglow under his hands.

It’s worth a little delay for that.

–

After is almost routine by now - weird, because he doesn’t usually stick around long enough for ‘after’ to be a thing, let alone to form routines. But he stays until she drops off, usually, maybe a little longer to enjoy the quiet in her apartment, the way the angle of the light doesn’t hurt his eyes and whatever detergent she uses doesn’t burn his nose. He tucks his face into her neck, vaguely aware that this is more touching than he ever used to do in bed, but between her weirdly fragrant blood just under the skin and the remarkably inoffensive soap she uses, she actually smells nice, and her skin is soft and warm. She’s asleep – her breathing is slow, her heartbeat lethargic – but she still presses back into the contact.

He chuckles and closes his eyes, enjoying the contact and the way focusing on it (on her) smooths all the grating edges off the world for a minute.

–

Hours later, a surge of alarm has him halfway upright and scanning for threats before his brain is entirely back online but - there’s nothing. Then he realizes he was responding to Winter tensing on the other side of the bed, her heartbeat surging. He’s about to ask her what the hell she’s so worked up about when she relaxes, all at once, and slings an arm across his shoulders, pushing him back down again, which he’s got no objection to. When he lets her do that, she tosses a leg over his for good measure, like she thinks it’ll anchor him in place.

He could push her off.

He doesn’t.

She snuggles closer and breathes in, makes a happy little noise before whispering,

“Good morning.”

He stares at the ceiling.

Morning.

He didn’t mean to stay over. Didn’t mean to sleep, certainly didn’t need to. Adam’s going to rake him over the coals for staying out without calling in, even if everyone obviously knew exactly where he was.

He’s distracted from that train of thought when she shifts a little closer, because an attractive and interested bedmate is a hell of a lot more appealing than thoughts of Adam du Mortain and the stick up his ass. And she’s apparently detected the inattentiveness, because she nips his earlobe.

“You are such a brat,” he mutters, rolling over to pin her down. She grins up at him.

“Yep,” she answers, popping the end of the word like bubblegum and licking her lips, watching the way he watches the movement.

The grin turns into a smirk and she drawls,

“See something you like?”

–

He ought to get back to the Warehouse, but she’s offering an excellent incentive to put off getting chewed out for a little longer.

And then she sprawls over his chest, boneless and relaxed, breathing evening out and heartbeat slowing, and he demands,

“Are you seriously going back to sleep _again_.”

She was just asleep for _hours_. Surely even humans don’t need to spend this much time unconscious.

“Shut up,” she mutters into his skin. “Wore me out.”

There is something satisfying in a job well done, and - he smirks - she’s been very well done in the last 24 hours.

He’s about to voice that thought when she yawns, snuggles in even closer, and mumbles,

“Love you.”

It feels like the time he got tossed off the third story of a building; a weightless moment followed by a jarring impact that knocks all the sense out of him. He blinks up at the weird texture of her ceiling and tries to get his brain back online. 

“What?”

She doesn’t answer, breathing already gone heavy and even. He replays the words. They’re just as incomprehensible the second time. It’s weird, though; he didn’t mind hearing it. It’s not the first time someone’s said it, but it’s the first time it hasn’t felt like being dipped in napalm. This… 

It’s still too much, but not in a bad way. So he turns over, just enough to nudge her a little more awake.

“Hey. Winter.”

“Mngh,” she grumbles into his shoulder.

“Say it again.”

She blinks, bleary-eyed and confused, and then smiles a little and stretches up to kiss him. It’s like the get-well kiss. 

Is _that_ what it was?

She pulls back just enough to murmur three words against his mouth. And she doesn’t give him an expectant look, after, doesn’t wait for a response at all, just resettles herself and goes back to sleep.

...Huh.

He keeps turning it over in his head as he pulls his jeans back on, as he jogs back to the warehouse, as Adam is making annoyed noises in his general direction and Nate tries to convey disapproval with his eyebrows.

Felix is giving him a weird look, though.

And not giving him shit, for once. Just staring. It is, incredibly, even more annoying. Mason finally snarls,

“What?”

“I can’t tell,” Felix says slowly, “if you’re figuring things out or getting more confused.”

“Join the club,” Mason huffs, because yeah - neither can he.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
